


Mission command to base: It's gay in here.

by RussianSunflower3



Series: Seijou 4 Week; Sunflower style [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Day 7, M/M, Seijou 4 Week, secret agent AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7584175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianSunflower3/pseuds/RussianSunflower3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi and Oikawa work together on a team under the alias's "Green Eyes" and "Scar Knee".<br/>Hanamaki and Matsukawa are also a partnership, with the codenames "Candy Floss" and "Bushy Brows".</p>
<p>They're the strongest four on base, but that doesn't necessarily mean they run missions together all the time. Coming together after a long time is amazing, but there's a downside to separating.<br/>One team having to save the other after a mission gone awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A little training, a little napping, a lot of love.

“I’m going to need a visual on corridor 3A-Beta, Scar knee.”

_“Pinging through to your watch now, Green eyes.”_ Oikawa’s voice through the audio transmitter in Iwaizumi’s ear is followed by a vibration around his wrist, letting him know that his ‘watch’ has been updated with the building schematics, focussing on the corridor he specified. The watch is actually a holographic database, stored with thousands of images to assist Iwaizumi in his tasks, Oikawa guiding him from the communication hub with technical prowess and beyond-amazing skills at digging out information at lightning speeds. Originally, he had complained about not being a field agent with his partner, but a bullet to the knee on a low ranking mission – his first one - had ruined that chance, and he’d found value as Iwaizumi’s partner from the outside hacking in.

Iwaizumi slips through the corridors like he belongs, a ninja in the shadows with only the soft blue glow of the hologram betraying his position. He covers it as much as he can with his sleeve, only exposing it when he needs to check a route.

_“Two heat signatures approaching from your left, GE.”_ Iwaizumi takes a few steps backwards to find a curtain that appeared royal purple during the day, draped down from the ceilings to cover the grand window that almost spans the entire wall. He tugs it experimentally then jumps whilst holding onto it. The curtain rail holds. It might be his only way out, even if it hadn’t looked so promising. Iwaizumi scales the curtain halfway up, until he can rest his feet on the silk sash that holds the curtain back during the day.

He stills just as he hears two voices speaking lowly in murmurs that he can’t identify thanks to their quietness, approaching from the direction Oikawa told him. Taking in a deep breath, Iwaizumi keeps his eyes peeled but his mouth shut. At this point, he’s barely breathing. In fact, he’s not. He’s trained to hold his breath for fifteen minutes with ease, highly practical for making escapes or raids in water-laden environments. Or, like this situation right here, keeping himself still down to the rise of his chest, so that he cannot be detected. At least, that should be the case.

“Misjuba inti, għajnejn aħdar!” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and knows the game is up. He breathes again, as he slides down the curtain with both feet and one hand, the other pressed against his earpiece.

“SK, the rig is up.” Iwaizumi casually waltzes over to the two people, adjusting his cufflink. Then, he reaches out and playfully slaps the grinning one.

“When did you learn _Maltese_ , Hanamaki? More importantly, when did you two get back?” Hanamaki laughs and taps the side of his nose to indicate that secrets are unspoken, whilst Matsukawa reaches out and pulls Iwaizumi into a hug that gently holds him around the waist, pressing his lips to Iwaizumi’s forehead with a small smile.

“We landed a few minutes ago. From Malta, surprise, surprise. Hey, Oikawa! Are you gonna disable the practice run yet?” There’s a sigh in Iwaizumi’s ear before a burst of static, followed by Oikawa’s voice coming from the speaker system in the practice room.

_“We were just about to take over Ushiwaka and Semi’s record, thank you very **much**.” _

“Aww, don’t be salty! Come and get a kiss!” There’s a pause before the PR shuts down and footsteps echo coming down from the command centre, then the door to the room is thrown open and Oikawa shrieks with joy as he throws himself at Hanamaki.

“Takahiro! I heard Mattsun’s voice but I didn’t know you were with him and then I said we were going to take over the record and- Your voice~! I hard your voice!” Hanamaki laughs as he wraps Oikawa in a crushing embrace, the hug returned just as tight to him. Watching their partners break into a flurry of kisses and “I love you”s, Iwaizumi smiles and feels Matsukawa – his cheek against his boyfriend’s chest - chuckle as he runs a hand through Iwaizumi’s hair. He lifts his head away to press his chin where his cheek previously was, looking up at Matsukawa with adoration.

“I’m so glad you’re back safe.”

“Mhm~. Me too. I thought you two would have departed already.”

“No, we’re going in a couple of hours. Thought we’d get some practice runs and a nap in beforehand.”

“Sounds like a solid plan. I could join you on that napping, if you don’t mind~...” Iwaizumi answers by pushing up onto his tiptoes and stealing a quick kiss, intertwining his fingers with Matsukawa’s hand and tugging him away. Hanamaki and Oikawa are still twirling around each other.

“Oi, dumbass. You’ve got the room keycard, hurry up.” Oikawa misses a step in the twirling and tumbles, but sweeping arms are there to catch him in a romantic dip, Hanamaki wriggling his eyebrows playfully. Oikawa snorts before correcting his stance and fishing in his pocket for the key.

“I always have the keycard, Iwa-chan. Ever since _you_ lost yours in _**Corfu**_.”

“Shut up. We don’t talk about Corfu.”

“Wait, what happened in Corfu?” Matsukawa looks down at Iwaizumi in confusion, before the Agent scowls and pushes Matsukawa’s arm off his shoulders, blushing heavily. He marches off towards their room, leaving Matsukawa to blink after him feeling a bit bewildered. He turns his questioning gaze to Oikawa, pointing in the direction Iwaizumi disappeared. Oikawa wears a devious smirk and his eyes are shadowed with mischief.

“Iwa-chan was learning rooftop travelling and he slipped through a derelict roof into a vat of hot wax. I know that sounds bad, but calling in backup to chisel him out was almost as _amazing_ as watching Noya and Terushima sculpt him into various iconic figures before letting him loose.” 

“... Do you have pictures?” Oikawa’s eyes dart around to make sure no one is eavesdropping before giving Matsukawa a sly grin and two thumbs up. Hanamaki cackles.

“This, I have to see.” He loops his elbow around Oikawa’s, swinging them as they walk. Iwaizumi is waiting at the door to a room signed ‘SK & GE’. Scar Knee and Green Eyes are the codenames they use through the audio devices on missions, never allowed to use their real names. Once inside the base, however, it’s all names, nicknames, and insults right from the get go. Still, their agent codenames are engraved into the plaque on each door. Matsukawa and Hanamaki have on down the next hallway titled CF & BB. Candyfloss and Bushy Brows, lovingly bestowed on them by Oikawa the second he saw them in the same training class. Somehow, it stuck.

“Hurry up and open the door, Trashykawa. I’d like to get a nap _this_ side of the mission.”

“As you command, old man Iwa-chan.” Oikawa receives a swift smack to the back of the head that almost knocks him over, but all he does is whine and unlock the door with the keycard. Iwaizumi is quick to grab Matsukawa’s wrist and tug him into the open area, then straight through into the bedroom. Matsukawa doesn’t complain. He and Hanamaki have been on a four month mission in Malta, their longest one without Oikawa and Iwaizumi as assistance. 

And in a couple of hours, Iwaizumi and Oikawa will be departing on their own mission, somewhere in the heart of Africa, Matsukawa understands. This small window of time may be all they have. Best to use it for holding each other in their arms and reinforcing their bond. He shuts the door behind them – knowing that Oikawa and Hanamaki _never_ nap together, when they could be doing something more fun or noisy – and follows Iwaizumi’s example of stripping to underwear. Iwaizumi flops onto the bed, holding the duvet up invitingly for Matsukawa to slip in. He nuzzles his way in, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi safely as the duvet comes to rest down on them, bare chests pressed together and Iwaizumi’s head buried in the crook of his shoulder. Matsukawa tilts down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon.”

“Me either... But we’re agents, Issei... Me ‘n’ you... Oikawa ‘n’ Hanamaki... We’re gonna have to keep leaving for separate missions occasionally.”

“I know, I just-... At least a whole day would have been nice.” Iwaizumi huffs in amusement, trailing a finger down a scar across Matsukawa’s chest, a remnant from one of their highest ranking joint missions. Sensing a pulse of uncertainty, Matsukawa clasps the hand formerly trailing down his chest in his own, tugging to his lips and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. Soft green eyes, with a loving expression saved only for him, watch his every move with a small smile.

“Get some rest, Hajime. The troublesome two will wake us when it’s get-ready-and-go time.”

“Okay.” The whispered reply stretches into a yawn, Iwaizumi burrowing into Matsukawa’s warm body like a kitten, and slowing his breathing to tempt sleep into his realm. In assistance, Matsukawa strokes his hand through Iwaizumi’s hair tenderly, soothingly. Sleep would come easier, of course, if it wasn’t for the _‘faint’_ background noise. If Matsukawa had to guess, he’d say that Oikawa and Hanamaki had turned saucepan sets into a drum kit. 

Honestly, that isn’t so far from the truth. Hanamaki is pulling pots and pans and baking trays out of a cupboard, dropping them onto the nearest counter or patch of floor. Oikawa, on the other hand, is rummaging through cupboards and the fridge to collect ingredients, placing them on a section of counter far from Hanamaki’s chaotic reach.

“I got all the pastry stuff, but we need to decide what’s going inside it.”

“Cream! Obviously. And maybe some jam.”

“Sounds more like you’re cooking for yourself, ‘Hiro.” Oikawa plays a pout towards Hanamaki, who melts like goo at the site and steals a sweet kiss.

“Well, there are rules about ‘not taking food on missions’, so...” With a roll of his eyes, Oikawa grabs the strawberries and sugar from their respective places, to be reduced into a jam. The cream will come into it last, but Hanamaki grins like he’s already won, only partially aware that Oikawa could change his mind at any minute. He has a tendency to do that.

“You make the pastry, I’ll make the jam?”

“No duh. You make the pastry too flat.”

“Like your ass~?” Oikawa grins mischievously as Hanamaki gapes at him in disbelief. Then, he grabs a tea towel. As he begins to rapidly twirl it around, Oikawa realises he has very little time, so with a shriek, he runs from the kitchen. Hanamaki is right on his tail.

“Let’s see how your ass likes _this_!” Hanamaki tackles Oikawa to the floor, abandoning the tea towel in favour of tickling him, making Oikawa laugh loud and long and pure. He’s still gasping for breath when a wave of fury sweeps over them in intimidation. Freezing on the spot, they turn to see a _livid_ Matsukawa standing in the bedroom doorway, hunched over with an exhausted expression and murder in his eyes.

“Hajime is trying to sleep. Either bake your butt pastry quietly, or go use some other rooms in the facilities.”

“Y-Yes Mattsun.”

“Kaaay.” With verbal agreement, Matsukawa stumbles back into the room and the door shuts softly behind him. For a few seconds, Oikawa and Hanamaki are still staring at the door with fright etched into their faces. Then, they hiss and snicker, directing their gaze towards each other. Hanamaki snorts through a laugh, and that only makes it harder to stay quiet. Eventually, they find themselves slinking into the corridor just for the purpose of bursting into laughter. Wheezing and wiping away tears, Oikawa goes to unlock the door.

He pales.

“Umm... So... I don’t suppose _you_ picked the keycard off the counter, did you?”

“... Tooru, what the literal fuck.”

“I was being attacked and tickled! Therefore, it is not my responsibility in any way.” He punctuates his statement by folding his arms with a stubborn pout. Hanamaki rolls his eyes, shaking his head with affectionate amusement.

“Come on, we’ll go do something else on base~. How about checking on the rookies?” Instantly, Oikawa perks up and is taking rapid steps down the hallway with Hanamaki on his heels. Two of the current rookies – Kindaichi and Kunimi – have struck a soft spot with the four experienced agents. Henceforth, they had claimed one each. If the rookies so wished, they could become understudies to either pair of the quartet and work with them on a three man team to gain field experience. Oikawa has laid claim to Kindaichi, whilst Matsukawa had disallowed Hanamaki to even _think_ about choosing a rookie that wasn’t Kunimi.

“My son will be better than yours!” 

“Ex _cuse_ me? Your son nearly shot himself in the face with a handgun! At least Kunimi knows which direction to point the damn thing in!”

“Remind me who fell asleep halfway through a mock stakeout!”

“That was one time! Kindaichi hasn’t even completed the obstacle course!” They bicker as they jog, heading towards the rookie centre on the other side of the base. It’s equipped with everything up-and-coming spies need, from practice halls to simulation computers to weaponry. In each room, there’s also a balcony for graduated spies to overlook the training, and a staircase that only the most adept spies are allowed to descend for tutorial purposes. Oikawa and Hanamaki skid to a stop in the balcony overlooking the practice room. It’s currently in simulation mode, the streets of Indonesia looking as lifelike as Hanamaki remembers from one mission three years back.

“Whoa... Is that...?” There’s a kill screen above the simulation that is blind to the participants until they emerge. It is visible, however, to anyone from the outside looking in. In top position is TH – Turnip head. In the column next to him, as top coordinator, is CT – Constantly tired.

“I don’t believe this. How did you do it, Tooru? How did you corrupt my son into following in your footsteps?” Oikawa grins and flashes Hanamaki double peace signs.

“I told him it’s the position with the most access to coffee~.”

“You little shit-!”

“Wait, don’t kill me yet! Kin-Chan’s about to encounter hostiles.” The simulation runs about seven heavily armed hostiles approaching Kindaichi’s position as he moves through the hallways as if it’s his right to be there. Kunimi must have warned him through the earpiece, because he looks around almost frantically before climbing onto a window frame and making himself as small as possible to shrink behind the loose curtain.

“He must have learnt that from Iwa-chan...” Hanamaki gives a non-committal hum, but his mind isn’t really in the same place. It’s not that long until Oikawa will have to go to the main office and collect the last details of his mission, before he has to depart. They’ve done this dance many times, reuniting and leaving again, not knowing if the other is okay and having no forms of communication for an extended period of time.

It’s been four months since they last got to cuddle and talk and just _see_ each other, and now they’re parting ways again. Hanamaki feels a pang in his heart and leans just a little closer to Oikawa.

“Hey, Tooru?”

“Mhm?”

“Come back safely, won’t you?” Oikawa presses back against him, wisps of untamed hair brushing Hanamaki’s cheek.

“I promise.”

“And- And make sure Iwaizumi comes back in one piece? Matsukawa would _freak_ if he came back injured again.”

“I promise, ‘Hiro. Next time, let’s go on a mission together. All four of us. So don’t you dare leave whilst we’re in Africa!” Hanamaki makes a noise of agreement and turns his head slightly to capture Oikawa’s lips, sealing their promising words with a final kiss that lingers beyond their normal cheeky, fun pecks. Their foreheads are still touching when their lips part, and their eyes are closed. The intimate moment is interrupted by a wristwatch beeping. Oikawa’s breath fans over Hanamaki’s face in a sigh and his eyebrows flutters as his lips move.

“I have to go. That’ll be the office.”

“Wh-What? But it’s not time to leave yet!”

“Plans change, Takahiro. I’m so sorry, you know I’d stay if I could...” Their hands squeeze together, and then Oikawa is walking away, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. Hanamaki watches him go helplessly, feeling his eyes water. Oikawa turns a corner - and maybe it’s his disappearance from view, maybe it’s Hanamaki being sentimental – but he runs after Oikawa and pulls him into a tight, desperate hug from behind.

“I’ll miss you. Stay safe. I _love_ you.” Oikawa chokes out what sounds like a restrained sob and then turns in the hug to clasp Hanamaki back, shoulders shaking until he recovers from the moving moment and pulls away.

“I love you too, more than words could ever say. I’ll return to you, ‘Hiro, I promise.” His watch beeps again, with more urgency.

“... Can you go and wake Iwa-chan? I think they want us to leave immediately.”

“I- Yeah. I can do that.” With longing glances that are tinged with the sadness of a goodbye, Hanamaki goes one way whilst Oikawa goes the other. He gets to the room, and whilst he doesn’t have a keycard to Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s room, he does have contact with Matsukawa. Pinging him incessantly until he responds, Hanamaki leans against the room door.

_“I swear on everything you love, Hanamaki, if you don’t stop pinging me-.”_

“Office called Oikawa. Iwaizumi needs to meet him in the depart lounge.”

_“Oh. Oh shit. Yeah, hold on.”_

Matsukawa releases the clasp on the watch that activates the chat, and then gently reaches down to place a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He almost doesn’t do it. He almost switches all modes of contact off, and stays there, with his boyfriend cuddled up to him looking so soft and peaceful in his sleep. But, this is their job, they knew that when they signed in with the agency. 

“Hajime. Hey, babe, time to wake up. C’mon Haji. Mission time is go. Oikawa’s waiting for you.” Iwaizumi whines at the unwanted wakening and nuzzles into Matsukawa’s chest like he could stay there forever. Matsukawa softly chuckles, pinching Iwaizumi’s hip.

“You’re a real sweetheart, but that charm won’t get you out of your job. Up you get!” In a move that risks his life every time he executes it, Matsukawa wraps his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist, rolls him over to the other side of the bed, and then pushes him over the edge. Iwaizumi’s shout, horrified expression and desperate clawing at the bedsheets as he falls are worth every insult spat his way.

An angry head with unruly hair and narrowed green eyes pops up from the side of the bed and glares death at Matsukawa, who laughs openly, wiping away a comical tear.

“I _hate_ when you do that!”

“Sorry, Hajime~. But it’s time to get up. Oikawa got buzzed in for briefing early. Hanamaki says to meet him at the departure lounge.” Iwaizumi scowls under his breath, shuffling in closer on his knees to rest his chin on his arms, folded across the edge of the bed.

“Just stay still for a minute. I want to have this image of you with me at all times.” Matsukawa smiles softly, relaxing into the duvet to allow Iwaizumi to scrape his eyes lovingly over every inch of what’s on display.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You’re adorable, Hajime. Adorable, charismatic, and flattering. But I’m still not letting you stay in bed any longer.” A tiny pout betrays Iwaizumi’s secondary motive; after admiring his boyfriend in a state of comfort and relaxation. Matsukawa chuckles and moves from the bed to cup Iwaizumi’s cheeks with his hands, tugging him up into a tidy but long kiss that leaves them both breathless. 

“I love you, you know that?”

“I know. I love you too. You had better come back to me, and god forbid if you come back injured, I will ask Kuroo to amputate your limbs for even the slightest graze.”

“The terrifying thing is that I know you will.” Another quick kiss, before Iwaizumi darts into the bathroom for a quick flannel wash, and Matsukawa pulls out the clothes he’ll need to wear from the departure lounge to wherever their cover is this time. There’s no time for sentimental speeches or time-consuming hugs. Instead, it’s like Iwaizumi is snatched away far too quickly, dressed in a rush yet presentable enough, and keycard swiped off the kitchen counter with two pieces of fruit in hand. One for him, one for Oikawa. It’s only when he’s out in the corridor, Matsukawa now dressed and standing besides Hanamaki, that Iwaizumi pulls him down for one final kiss.

“Wait for me?”

“This time, of course.” The small smile that tugs at Iwaizumi’s lips is worth it, before he runs off down the corridor and turns left, towards the departure lounge. Matsukawa sighs and his shoulders sag, so he slings an arm over his best friends shoulder to provide comfort as well as steal it away.

“We’re hopelessly in love, aren’t we?”

“Yup.”

“... Want to find a new TV show to watch until they come home?”

“Yup.”

“Ice-cream and tissues?” Hanamaki sniffles, head low and wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, voice pitching up as he answers;

“Y-Yes.” Matsukawa pats him supportively on the back, fishing out their own keycard, and they head for the safety of the room entitled CF and BB.


	2. Heart of Africa.

When they’d been assigned to go to the heart of Africa, Iwaizumi was expecting somewhere in Nigeria, or The Democratic Republic of Congo. What he wasn’t expecting _at all_ was to be transported to Gitega, a largely-desert part of Burundi. Oikawa is standing next to him with crossed arms and a displeased pout.

“And just _how_ am I supposed to set up communications on the edge of civilisation? I can’t link up to the service power, all the information will be accessible to the group we’re hunting. I can’t set up my own, because the power lines are buried by megatons of sand, and any radio signal would be interfered by the powerful storms!”

“Guess our B-rank mission just turned into A-rank.”

“An _A-rank_?! GE, without communications or surveillance, you’re essentially running a solo S-rank mission!”

“Not the first time.” There’s a pause in which Oikawa is shocked and silent, and Iwaizumi pales as he realises he just said the exact wrong thing.

“What.”

“What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“... Okay, so I took an S-rank solo mission whilst you were sick that one week, but came back with a huge success!”Oikawa taps his foot against the ground as he watches Iwaizumi try to defend himself. Eventually, Iwaizumi has the grace to look sheepish, dragging one foot through the sand. It still doesn’t calm Oikawa’s anger.

“I’m telling BB.”

“If we survive this one, you have my full permission to tell BB and get me killed off field.” Oikawa grins victoriously before his head whips round to the sound of an engine in the distance.

“On alert, GE. And we’d better get down.” The engine roars closer, like it’s just about to come round the corner, so Oikawa does the first thing he can think of. He pushes Iwaizumi into the nearest bush and lands atop him, tugging the branches they fell through to cover them. Iwaizumi gives a painful hiss, and it’s only then that Oikawa realises it’s an _acacia thorn_ bush. He glances at his hands, bleeding and scratched, before apologetically shrugging from where he sits on Iwaizumi’s lap. A sharp fingernail digs into his back, right between the shoulder blades, and he has to hold position as the jeep type vehicle drives past unaware. Once the coast is clear, however...

“SK, what the _**fuck**_?! You couldn’t have picked a safer tree?!”

“Oh, I _do_ apologise! Do you see any other type of shrubbery around here?!” Oikawa parts the branches again and pulls himself out before offering Iwaizumi a hand. Once standing, he gestures for Iwaizumi to turn around, and dutifully picks out any thorns that have embedded themselves in Iwaizumi’s back. Luckily, he’s still wearing the thick cool vest the agency issued for this mission.

“I’m getting a couple out with blood, but only the tips...”

“They’re still poisonous. We’d best find a safe spot to get my back and your hands treated.” Whining under his breath, Oikawa follows as Iwaizumi heads further out into the desert rather than towards the nearby town. He sticks to the dunes, finding security in being at least a little hidden from view in the plains. With his hands beginning to swell, Oikawa understands what Iwaizumi meant by poisonous. It’s a cyanogenic poison, so it needs to be drawn out before it spreads. 

“This should do.” Iwaizumi picks his shoe off the ground, dusts away sand grains, and pulls a hidden knife out from the sole. 

“Here, let me do yours first.”

“What the hell are you going to do with that knife?”

“Ram it up your ass, if you don’t sit down and shut up.” Obediently, with a tinge of fear at the sharp green eyes glaring at him, Oikawa drops to the desert floor with crossed legs and holds his hands out. Iwaizumi crouches down in front of him and using the tip of the knife, digs out the tiny heads of the acacia thorns that broke off in Oikawa’s flesh. It bleeds a little faster, but that’s not cause for concern.

“Suck the blood out then spit it on the ground.”

“I know what I’m doing, GE. I might not be Kuroo or Yamaguchi, but I know emergency medical response.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and leaves Oikawa to treat his hands whilst he closes his eyes and tries to focus on the mission objective. He feels a little woozy, from so much of the cyanogenic poison having been injected into his body. Reaching out clumsily, he manages to wrap a hand around Oikawa’s wrist.

“Get my water bottle out my bag. I’m about to do something _really_ stupid.”

“Wha-? I’m not going to endorse stupid behaviour.”

“Say that next time you’re about to push us into a poisonous bush with thorns the length of my finger. Water bottle, now.” Huffing, Oikawa finds the bottle and passes it over. 

“You have drops of my blood in your bag now. Better not let the enemy get hold of it.”

“Sure, sure.” Oikawa watches with mild interest and morbid curiosity as Iwaizumi tugs off his shirt and cool vest, then walks up to a nearby cactus and scratches it down his back. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes with a low, painful hiss, Oikawa almost dropping everything to come over and pull him away. But he understands. Iwaizumi is using the barbs of the cactus to remove the thorns, as well as puncture any swellings the thorns have caused to allow the pus to drain. He doesn’t let Oikawa see his back – something the coordinator is happy for – as he picks up the water bottle and slowly trickles it over his back before stepping away from the cactus. He drinks the rest of the bottle for hydration.

“S’better. Come on, we’d better set up shelter and see what we can do.” Their shelter consists of crudely dug mounds in the side of the dune behind them, using their clothes to line the insides for warmth and breathing space. It’s a tight fit, but Iwaizumi and Oikawa are best friends, and used to sharing space. In moments where everything seems harder than they’ve prepared for, it’s actually welcome. For the time being, they’re safe. But on a B-rank turned A-rank with no communication...

They’re going to need all the luck they can get. They have no guarantee they’re moving in the right direction, without a GPS signal from the base, and if they come across anyone that speaks Kirundi, they’re fucked. Iwaizumi has English covered, and Oikawa excels in French, but there’s always a chance they may come across someone who only speaks the first language of Burundi.

“Hey, SK?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for earlier. For hiding us from the vehicle.” Iwaizumi’s voice is sincere and soft, which leads Oikawa to smile.

“You’re welcome. We’ll just need to be extra careful, since the agency can’t send in backup.”

“Let’s just hope we won’t need it.”

“Mhm. Night, Green Eyes~.”

“Sleep tight, Shit King.” Oikawa pinches Iwaizumi’s side roughly in retaliation at the mock codename, hearing Iwaizumi snicker into the coat he’s lying on. Still, no more words are exchanged, and sleep is granted quickly in this dark hole that gives very little warmth other than each other’s body heat.

When Oikawa wakes, he’s cold. Absolutely freezing. The watch on his wrist is an _actual_ watch, instead of Iwaizumi’s high-tech gadget, which he adjusted to the time zone back on the plane over.

4 Am. Back in Japan, it would be 10am, and the agency would have declared them off radar for long enough to cease communication attempts. From this point on, they were truly alone. They had 6 weeks to get back in contact with base before they were marked MIA. For now, there was hope. For now, they could return without consequence. 

“Hey, GE, wake up. We need to get moving.” Iwaizumi grunts, but he opens his eyes and sits up all the same.

“Morn’ng...” 

“We’re moving out.” That snaps him back into some sort of semblance and the sleepy haze evaporates with the serious realisation of their situation.

“Right. Any idea which direction we’re heading?” Oikawa digs a small hole for them to crawl out of, blinking in confusion.

“Nope. Everything’s changed overnight.”

“ _What_?” 

“The dunes have changed! I- I have no idea where we came from.”

“Then we’ll go... This way.” Iwaizumi hauls himself out the hole with the bag of equipment that _should_ have been placed in a temporary hub slung over his shoulder and ready to go. He starts off in a random direction, admittedly not knowing the direction to the town. But they can’t sit here forever. The longer they linger, the more of a trace they leave. Oikawa smoothes the sand over where they stayed, trying to make it seem like they were never here. Like they never existed. 

“Wait for me.” He jogs after Iwaizumi with one last glance back at the dune that kept them sheltered, proud that it looks untouched.

Neither of them is aware of a Fox Kestrel circling their position with a small, shiny device strapped to its underbelly. They’re being watched, tracked, and followed, and neither spy is aware.


	3. Lost contact.

“We lost contact with Iwaizumi and Oikawa at 3:36pm twenty four ago. This occurred 2 miles from the drop-zone, and we last tracked them heading further into the desert. It’s very likely that the elements are already wearing them down, but I have good faith they’ve survived this far. Whilst it isn’t protocol, we want to send you to retrieve two of our best agents. Are you willing to enter the war zone, Matsukawa, Hanamaki?”

“We’re willing.” Matsukawa’s voice shakes a little as he responds, whilst Hanamaki is too stunned by the information to reply at all. It takes him a moment, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

“Lost contact...? That means...” Akaashi looks up at them from over his hands, folded together and resting against his lips.

“Yes. Most likely; they’ve been detected. If their cover has been blown, this turns from a _retrieval_ mission into a _rescue_ mission. I would put it at a low S-rank, considering the number of you and your combined experience.”

“R-Right.” Akaashi exhales slowly and then observes them with an abnormal amount of worry.

“Hanamaki. Matsukawa. Bring them home.” With sincere expressions, the duo nods and begin the harrowing journey to the departure lounge. Here is where they will stock up on weapons, necessities, and meet the pilots of their transportation. Iwaizumi and Oikawa left by bi-plane. Hanamaki and Matsukawa will be going by plane part way, truck the rest. The original bi-plane would need to be destroyed; if it had somehow been detected, it may be tagged. Matsukawa takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“I’m going to kill them. I _told_ them to be safe. They _promised_.”

“M-Matsukawa... What if they-?” He doesn’t let Hanamaki finish before he’s tightly squeezing his hand in a supportive gesture.

“They’re indestructible. Only **we** are allowed to kill them and this is the time I’m going to take full advantage of that.” Behind all the masked anger, beneath all the cloaked rage, Matsukawa’s heart pounds in fear and his eyebrows furrow in worry. Hanamaki can feel it in the twitch of his fingers and hear it in the crack of his voice. Both of them are insanely worried about their respective boyfriends, because honestly? This is the first time they’ve required such serious backup, that even Akaashi had looked distressed.

Akaashi doesn’t _do_ distressed. He always has a calm head and solution in mind. Never have his agents felt unsafe when he issues a mission to them, or grants approval on a submission, because Akaashi knows his agents. He doesn’t let them get over their heads, and he’s always prepared for a situation gone wrong. 

This was the first time Hanamaki had seen unease etched into his face and uncertainty in his voice.

“We- We can find them, right?”

“Do we really have a choice?” Hanamaki shakes his head in response. They quickly and quietly stock up on select guns and knives, as well as pepper spray and smoke bombs. With a mini medical kit attached to their hips, they’re ready for a retrieval mission. Daichi and Yahaba are the pilots that have been assigned to transport the duo to the edge of Gitega. From there, Matsukawa and Hanamaki were on their own, searching for their boyfriends who had been out of contact for _twenty four days_. Anything could have happened, and it’s not necessarily positive. As they approach the pilots, Daichi pats them compassionately on the back, a silent gesture of support reminding them to stay strong.

“Ready to go?” Yahaba passes over a helmet for each of them, which Matsukawa takes in sort of a daze.

“Yeah... Yeah. We’re ready.” Daichi and Yahaba share a clearly concerned glance, but there’s nothing they can do. The hanger door opens at their command – voice activated by every commanding pilot on base – and it’s the smell of kerosene that makes it click in Hanamaki’s mind.

_“This is actually happening. Tooru and Iwaizumi have really been missing twenty four days. We could be bringing back **bodies** instead of boyfriends.”_

It’s a sobering thought, and he spends the flight to Tanzania with his head in his hands. They land, the helmets are removed, and they’re ushered by Yahaba and Daichi into a truck instead. Whilst Daichi handled the flight, Yahaba will drive them into Gitega. The strangest thing is that they _change_ in the back of the truck. Wearing casual clothes makes it harder to conceal weaponry, but easier to get through the border control. They can pass off as tourists who lost their way in the large expanse of West Africa. They’ll seem stupid, but that’s okay. A large percent of tourists are. A little door slides open into the cabin area, Daichi’s voice floating through.

“5 minutes to go. Are you ready?”

“Y’know I really wish people would stop asking us that. We’re ready; just get us into the damn country.” The truck wheels up to a border control booth, but the cover story of tourists does its job, and they enter Burundi. It’s a smooth ride up until Gitega, where they encounter a security check that hasn’t been marked on their detail sheet. At the same time, the radio fizzles with static, as do their earpieces. Daichi and Yahaba look at each other with wide eyes.

Frequency jammers, modified to block radio _and_ digital transmissions. Whoever Iwaizumi and Oikawa had been sent to kill, they already knew of the apparent assassination. Without communication, there was extremely little chance of a successful mission. This had suddenly boosted to a much more dangerous status, if the ruler of the underground dealings here was aware that more agents were heading their way. Partnered that with the fact this was an unregistered stop...

“State your reason for visitation.” Yahaba plasters on a smile as he rolls down the window. His English is heavily accented, but still clear enough to understand. It’s much better than Daichi’s, which is restricted to _“Pass the cheese, Destroyer of worlds.”_ Nobody knows where he got that from. Hanamaki, master of languages, would have been a better choice if he wasn’t so reactive to the voice. Part of him knows this man is likely innocent, but this country is where Oikawa and Iwaizumi are missing.

“Well, we were just in Bujumbura when a local recommended Abatimbo. Apparently there’s a historic site here...?” In the back of the van, Hanamaki’s fingers twitch towards the canister of knock out gas disguised as a keychain on his belt. It’s small enough to be concealed, but large and powerful enough to knock out a couple of people. Matsukawa bats his twitchy fingers in reprimanding, giving his partner The Stare™. Hanamaki responds by shoving his hands down the waistband of his trousers instead.

“How many occupants in the vehicle?”

“Four. My brother and his friend are in the back.”

“I need you all out here to perform a pat-down.” Feigning innocence, Yahaba blinks and tilts his head to the side like he’s never heard the English term.

“A pat? Pat down?”

“We need to check for dangerous items. There’s been a lot of smuggling and – uh – terrorist activity around.” Matsukawa’s eyes narrow. He knows what that means. Foreign people coming into their country and attempted to take down someone important. _Very_ important. Agents from global companies are obviously the foreigners... Now it’s just a matter of narrowing the important people in the country down to the culprit. He clenches his hand tight enough that his nails dig crescent moons into his palms. He swears, if Iwaizumi is hurt in any way, he’ll pay the leader of the underground ring back a hundredfold. 

“Step out the vehicle please.” There’s a distinctive click that Matsukawa recognises as the safety being clicked off a gun, hidden under thick clothing. He nods to Hanamaki, who is already reaching for the knock out gas. The keychain is thrown out the truck doors with enough force for the lid to pop off and a stream of yellow-white gas to engulf the two men who were running the ‘checkpoint’. There isn’t time for them to raise the alarm or reach the checkpoint booth to call for assistance.

Matsukawa pull on one of the helmets they used on the flight. With its own supply of oxygen, he runs through the gas cloud unaffected and scrutinises the dashboard. It’s really high technology, but nothing he can’t sort out in a few minutes. He pulls off a panel to expose all the wires and switches, working diligently through them like he had constructed it himself. It doesn’t take long to open the barrier and deactivate the jammers for this segment, but Matsukawa knows there will be others, placed in a circle to cover the entire country. 

Or... If he’s correct... Brow furrowed and expression pinched with thought, he taps away on the keyboard. A diagram comes up on the screen, and he snaps a photo with his watch for reference. It displays the signal strength of the frequency jammers, and there’s a spot within the circle, in what appears to be a random spot, where the signal is strongest and radiates outwards from.

“Bingo. So _that’s_ your headquarters.”

“BB, hurry up!” Matsukawa jumps in the back with Hanamaki, pinging through the detail to the screen in the drivers cab.

“See that large red patch in the upper quarter? That’s where we’re going. That’s where the underground headquarters is.” Yahaba nods and starts driving, whilst Hanamaki turns to Matsukawa with wide, hopeful eyes.

“You think SK and GE will be there?”

“No doubt about it. If they aren’t in the desert, SK would have landed them in trouble.”

“Hey, don’t diss my boyfriend so easily.” Matsukawa gives Hanamaki an exasperated look and the pinkette pouts, averting his gaze.

“I mean, you’re probably right, but... I get first dibs on being mean to him.”

“I think GE beats you to the punch. Literally.”

“... Best friend privileges.” Disregarding the situation and tension for the minute, the duo snicker as they catch each other’s eyes. Leaning against each other for comfort, they close their eyes and wish the best for their boyfriends. 

Hanamaki hopes Oikawa hasn’t done something stupid on the field, like he did on his first mission. Matsukawa prays that Iwaizumi comes back in one piece, too often targeted by assholes who think they can break him and use him as an example for other agents. It never works. 

_“Or rather, it hasn’t so far.”_ There’s no guarantee that if Iwaizumi and Oikawa have been missing twenty four days, they’ll be returning in full health. Physically _and_ emotionally. There have been times where agents have returned from a mission and either retired for their own sake, or been put into a protection programme by Akaashi.

Breathing out shakily, Matsukawa can only hope that his boyfriend and friend are strong enough to survive whatever comes their way.


	4. Infiltrate.

Water gushes down over Iwaizumi’s face through a cloth; soaking the material and making it stick heavily to his face as he struggles to breathe. It’s ice cold too, drenching the front of his shirt and resulting in shivers. This has been going on for twenty one days. Every half-hour, he’s submitted to this form of torture for a good ten minutes. Sometimes the water is boiling instead of freezing; sometimes the material is different so that it clings to his face more. 

Either way, he’s nowhere near close to breaking. He stubbornly remains silent, daring to glare at the interrogator every time the cloth is whipped off and he’s asked questions. Oikawa is strapped down in a chair opposite, but so far, nothing has been done to him. Iwaizumi knows exactly what their plan is. They’ll torture him in front of Oikawa until the ‘weaker’ one spills the beans, gathering their information from the one they interpret as caring for his partner more than the mission.

Yeah, right. 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa have a pact that neither of them will talk of the agency, or the other will murder them slowly and more painfully than any interrogator could. And truthfully, the underground gang has gotten it the wrong way round. Oikawa is not the weaker of the two. He would _never_ talk about their occupation, no matter how much pain Iwaizumi was in. Because he knows Iwaizumi can take it. Perhaps the enemy would find something out if it were the other way round, because Iwaizumi has always been protective over Oikawa.

“Talk, Agent. Just think; all you have to do is tell us the location of your base, and your partner gets medical attention instead of... The less favourable option~.” Iwaizumi hears the crack of a whip, a leather one with 9 tails and knots at the end. It would cause a flaming sensation as it broke cleanly through the skin, considering he wore a white dress shirt that could be opened. His suspicions prove correct when a hand trails teasingly along his collar and undoing the first button.

Oikawa narrows his eyes at the man doing the unbuttoning, ripping the rest open for effect and lightly whipping against Iwaizumi’s damp, exposed chest. Iwaizumi flinches under the touch, if only because his skin is still frozen from the water torture. With a huff, Oikawa purses his lips into a pout and turns his head away from the person questioning him.

“Don’t wanna.” 

“30 lashes. Salt it afterwards.” Oikawa snaps his head back towards Iwaizumi as the torturer pull his arm back, as high as he can. It comes down fast, impacting Iwaizumi’s chest with a loud _crack_. 9 at the same time. 

Iwaizumi makes it to the 12th whip before gritting his teeth isn’t enough. His skin is sore and red and splitting, blood welling from where the leather cat-O-9-tails have broken the flesh and left welts. It takes until the 28th one for Iwaizumi’s low grunts and stunned gasps break into choked, shuddering breaths and tears leaving a small wet patch in the now-dry material draped over his face. 

“G- GE...” 

“Don’t! Don’t you dare – Arg! – Tell them anything!” Oikawa steals up again, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. He seals his lips stubbornly and refuses to even speak back to the interrogator as he questions Oikawa. The snark and cheeky responses he’d usually give are missing in a display of cool arrogance. He watches as salt is rubbed into the spilt skin, Iwaizumi’s chest heaving and attempting to jolt away from the touch if it wasn’t for the restraints. 

“Enough! We’ll continue the drenching for now, but at the next session we’ll _really_ break them.” Oikawa almost laughs. That’s what they’ve said 5 times already today. Considering this is the sixth torture session, he has faith that they’re completely wrong. Anything they can come up with is things the agents have been trained to deal with and persevere. The heavy door closes behind the two as they walk out.

“SK.”

“Hmm?”

“If- If there’s an opportunity to get out; I want you to take it.”

“... What? That sounds almost like you’re giving up.” Iwaizumi tilts his head downwards in guilt. A rage builds up inside Oikawa as he tugs against the restraints around his wrists. Venom leaks into his voice as he snaps.

“You weak piece of shit! Giving up?! Don’t joke with me!”

“I’m not joking!” Iwaizumi barks back with equal ferocity, and it’s like Snake vs. Tiger. Shaking his head, Iwaizumi manages to ditch the material over his face, glaring fiercely at Oikawa.

“If there’s a chance one of us – most likely you - can escape, you _have_ to warn the agency this is an S-rank area. And... And deliver a message to BB...”

“Green eyes-”

“No, listen to me! You have to tell BB that I love him. S-So much. If- If we got the chance to r-retire, I’d want to do it with him. I’d like to be w-with him. As more than a boyfriend. Can- Can you tell him that, SK?” Oikawa’s heart shatters a little at seeing his best friend so vulnerable and- 

And _broken_. Not in the sense of giving up information, but in the way that he’ll have nightmares of this event for years to come. It’s in the drop of his shoulders, in the way his head hangs low, in the lack of fight or tension in his body. Oikawa takes a moment to compose himself, biting back the sudden rush of fury that emerges once he’s finished pitying Iwaizumi.

“Now it’s your turn to listen to _me_. We’re getting out of here, okay? Together, like we’ve always done. You always managed to carry on when I was a voice in your ear, and now I’m the voice right next to you, so you have no excuse! If I have to crawl out of here on hands and knees with nothing but your torso and head, I will strap you to my back and _carry_ you out of here! I will _**drag**_ you back to BB so you can tell him yourself! So hold on, GE. Hold on just a little longer. I’ll think of a way to get us out of here.”

Iwaizumi looks back at him with an unusually soft expression, exhausted and begging for relief from the burning sensation of his wounds, but hopeful. He maintains eye contact for a good 30 seconds before he nods, swallowing down regret at his own plea before Oikawa had spoken sense into him. 

The exhaustion increases to the point where he physically can’t stay awake. He is – ironically – suffering from dehydration as well as sleep deprivation and the physical effects of being doused in water every half hour. To the sound of Oikawa talking about something random, just to fill the empty silence, Iwaizumi blacks out.

A hand gripping his short hair and tugging his head backwards is the rude awakening he gets before a new cloth is slapped over his face and then water as hot as _fire_ is poured over his face, lingering on the cloth and burning into his skin. He doesn’t have the energy to scream or fight back the way his body shakes in response to the heat that he cannot remove. He’ll probably curse himself later, but...

He’s just _so_ thirsty. He laps up the droplets around his lips, ignoring the way it burns as he sucks the boiled water from the material and it goes down his throat. He thinks he hears Oikawa wince.

“See how your partner falls apart? We can do so much more, if you don’t tell us what we want to know.”

“Falls apart? I believe you’re mistaken. He’s _surviving_ , despite what you cowards are doing to him, hiding behind your torture devices and restraints.” The leader of their torture session turns to his grunts and orders them in Kirundi. 

“ _Release him! Let this idiot see how weak his partner truly is_.”

“ _B-Boss, is that really a good idea?!_ ” 

“ _I said do it_!” The grunts release the straps around Iwaizumi’s ankles and wrists, tilting the chair to add effect as he falls to his knees on the floor, sodden material falling to the floor and panting for air. Lifting his head, Iwaizumi sees Oikawa’s smug smirk and a glimmer in his eyes that shows things are going to plan. Iwaizumi understands. 

As if overcome by weakness, he slumps against the rough concrete, completely limp. The interrogator grins and dismisses the two grunts. He turns victoriously to Oikawa.

“You see? He has fallen.” Oikawa acts as if he is shocked, surprised and saddened. The laughter of the interrogator is suddenly cut off as Oikawa breaks into a grin of his own, and a leather strip is wrapped around the man’s neck, cutting off his airways. Iwaizumi holds him there until he loses conscious, slumping to the ground at Oikawa’s feet. 

“Nice one, GE~.” Iwaizumi drops his leather strap and starts working on Oikawa’s to free him.

“Thank me when we’re out of here.”

“Will do.” Oikawa rubs at his sore wrists and pats himself down as Iwaizumi buttons up his shirt, hissing when his knuckles brush over the open wound, or where the skin is already blistering. He doesn’t look too steady on his feet either.

“... Lean on me, okay?” Iwaizumi gruffly grunts as a complaint, but he doesn’t refuse the offer and utilises the shoulder Oikawa lends him. There’s a single corridor once they exit the room they’ve been trapped in for three days, and Oikawa realises they’re _underground_. This is a dungeon that’s been dug into the desert sand, carved out, and then cemented. It’s cold, as was the room, but if he presses a bare hand against the wall, he can feel warmth seeping through.

“We’re not too far from the surface. Once we’re up, we’re probably going to encounter resistance.”

“I can take ‘em.”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely.” They reach a large, solid door at the end, and Iwaizumi rights himself before looking at Oikawa and nodding sincerely. The coordinator swings the door open and-

“CF?!” Hanamaki blinks, mouth shaped into an astonished ‘o’ as he holds the handle on the other side of the door. Muffled shots in the background signify that Matsukawa is taking care of the rest of the problem. From the sounds of it, there’s a _lot_ of problems. Rubbing the back of his head, Hanamaki partially gets over his bewilderment.

“Well... I guess you didn’t need rescuing after all.”

“Who are you kidding?! We never would have made it past that many! Here, take GE.” Oikawa nudges Iwaizumi into Hanamaki’s waiting arms, catching him as he stumbles. Once more, Hanamaki’s eyes widen. This time it’s because he’s looking down at Iwaizumi with burnt skin, open welts, and blistered cuts.

“... BB is going to go fucking _ballistic_.” Sweeping Iwaizumi into a princess carrying style, Hanamaki trusts Oikawa to stay close behind as he races through the winding corridors and small doorways. The sound of gunfire going off gets louder and louder until they duck into a room where Matsukawa is taking out target after target as they come out a small passageway for reinforcement. The pile of bodies is growing, and he wonders how they can be so stupid as to keep coming.

“Moving out! I have the packages!”

“Packages?! Oh, that’s polite!” Hanamaki rolls his eyes at Oikawa’s sarcastic statement.

“Now is **not** the time, we have a vehicle waiting outside!” Matsukawa loads another round into his gun and starts walking backwards to cover them as they continue through the corridors and up steps to reach the outside. It’s only when they’re in the truck that Matsukawa sees Iwaizumi’s injuries. He freezes up before his eyes shade over with danger.

“... Pass me the grenade.” Hanamaki is about to protest when Oikawa passes over about six. Matsukawa takes them all and heads back towards the entrance pulling the pins out. He throws them in systematically and legs it back into the truck as Yahaba puts his foot on the accelerator. A dust cloud billows behind them before the grenades detonate and the truck is racing from the blast, heat on the faces of the four in the back as they watch it.

“So... Can I have some water now? And not on my face, preferably.” None of them laugh at Iwaizumi’s attempt at humour, all three staring at him with furrowed brows. In the end, Hanamaki holds him a little tighter and tilts him upwards as Matsukawa uncaps a bottle and holds it to Iwaizumi’s lips. 

“Pinch me if it’s too much, yeah?” Iwaizumi lays a hand on Matsukawa’s leg, ready to pinch if necessary. He ends up drinking the whole bottle. Gently, Hanamaki passes Iwaizumi over to Matsukawa, who holds him close and strokes through his hair soothingly. He must be affected by the long term affects of dehydration, blood loss and sleep deprivation, because he instantly snuggles into Matsukawa’s collarbone and whispers a soft, needy _“Issei...”_

“You’re safe now... Get some sleep.”

“Are you really gonna ask Kuroo to amputate anything scratched...?”

“No. No, I’ll let you off this time. Just... Just trust me to keep you safe, yeah?” Iwaizumi reaches up and cups a hand around Matsukawa’s cheek, leaning up to kiss him gently with dry, cracked lips.

“I trust you. I love you.” He draws his hand back in, squirming as close as he can and finally closing his eyes to sleep. Watching the sappy display, Hanamaki smiles lightly and then tugs Oikawa into his lap, resting his chin atop his boyfriend’s head.

“Your chin is super pointy. Have I ever told you that before?”

“It’s so I can use it as weapon in a worst case scenario.” Oikawa snickers and leans back into Hanamaki’s chest.

“I’m glad you came to get us.”

“Hm? Didn’t think you could make it out alone?”

“Well, that too. But mostly so I get cuddles on the way home.” Hanamaki can’t hold back a laugh, before Matsukawa shushes him with a look of amusement. He waves a hand apologetically, sitting back against the side of the truck. He loops his arms around Oikawa’s waist and entangles their hands together.

“We’ll cuddle more at home. We’ll spend a whole day in bed. Maybe Akaashi will give us both a week off.” Oikawa melts into the cuddle, smiling like he can directly feel the suns warmth on his face.

“We can double date in our living room with bad movies and crappy food~.”

“So, your movie collection, basically.”

“Rude. No cream puffs for you.” Hanamaki imitates a whining puppy and buries his face into Oikawa’s hair, trying to be cute. It works. Oikawa giggles and blushes, making Matsukawa smile as he watches two of his best friends loving each other and celebrating their reunion. He’ll have to wait to properly reunite with Iwaizumi, but he doesn’t mind, when the smaller spy is warm against his chest and softly snoring. 

The warmth of the desert is nothing compared to the warmth all four of them feel around each other, two sets of two in every way, completing each other whether it’s business, friendship, or romance. It’s perfect. 

Even if it _does_ mean dodging the occasional bullet to get home to each other. It’s all just part of being a Secret Agent in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life, even if it's just "pancake". 
> 
> Hit me up on Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/russiansunflower3


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